So from afar the music and the shout
Roll'd up to Ilios and the Scaean gate,
And at the sound the city folk came out
And bore sweet Helen--such a fairy weight
As none might deem the burden of Troy's fate -
Across the threshold of the town, and all
Flock'd with her, where King Priam sat in state,
Girt by his elders, on the Ilian wall.
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